Painted in Black
by LadySchadenfreude
Summary: Based on Imitation Black. AU. KaitoxGakupoxLen. Kaito is still figuring out who he is. Len would give anything to forget himself. Gakupo seems collected... on the surface. It was only supposed to be rough sex, but what if they want more?  Warnings inside
1. Kaito

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Vocaloid. Hell, I don't even own a copy of the software

**A Word About Warnings:** There's no good way to write out the whole list of warnings. There will be lots. So, I'm going to take it on a chapter-by-chapter basis, so you actually know what's coming when.

Why so many warnings? This story's going to be rather explicitly into BDSM, with the guys having a lot of varied fun in the bedroom. You can imagine what a list of _that_ would look like, particularly since I'm not even sure what they're going to get up to. The rating will move up to M, though, and sooner rather than later.

As for this chapter: language, sex references.

(Don't forget, authors live on reviews, constructive ones in particular.)

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><p>For the first time since five A.M., Kaito finally began to relax.<p>

He lay flopped on his stomach, head buried in the couch cushion. He'd kept the T.V. off, all the better to hear the blessed silence of the room. Tension slowly melted out of his muscles, leaving him draped limply over the furniture.

A few minutes of that, and Kaito had mustered all the energy he could. He was going to put it to good use.

Any apartment in this city was going to be small, and maybe there were disadvantages to this. But just then, with the kitchen just a few feet from the living room, he felt rather lucky.

The kitchen was a little square off the living room, always lit with warm sunlight from the southern windows. Kaito reveled at the warm tiles under his bare feet.

However, the most important part was the fridge. Or, rather, the freezer attached to that. Kaito opened the door and ducked his head inside. His roommate would always complain about the space it was taking up, but _yes_, three cartons of ice cream – minimum – were needed to run the household. He snatched up one of the three, a chocolate one, and let the freezer door swing shut.

As he grabbed a spoon from a nearby drawer, his tie flopped down and across the counter. He could feel the silk knot slipping from around his neck, and fixing it was almost ingrained. He paused with one hand grasped around the knot.

After a moment's thought, he tugged it loose, letting the length of blue silk practically fall into the silverware drawer.

Of course, he ended up folding it carefully, a kind of compromise, before grabbing his spoon and hurrying back to the couch. Once sprawled safely there again, he was free to attack his ice cream with the abandon it deserved.

The afternoon was warm, and the ice cream pleasantly cool. The sound of distant traffic echoed up from three stories below, almost soothing. Kaito didn't know how many minutes passed like that, and he didn't much care.

Presently, though, he heard the soft _snick_ of a key entering the lock on the front door. "It's open," he called, his own voice startlingly loud. He regretted it the instant he spoke; he knew exactly who was there.

No response. Just the sound of a key being removed and the handle of a door jiggling.

The door swung wide, and Kaito's roommate walked in, while Kaito studiously avoided his eyes. He'd screwed up badly; why couldn't he have just taken the ice cream into his room?

Gakupo's hair swung in a curtain over his eyes, hiding his expression from even Kaito's boldest glances. In his arms, he carried a couple of what appeared to be grocery bags, and these he took to the kitchen.

Kaito's stomach churned with each echoing of Gakupo's steps. The spoonful of ice cream in his hand was melting off and falling back into the carton with thick _plops_. He didn't feel much like eating, not anymore.

He could always slink back to his room. Gakupo would have known what he'd done, of course, and why he'd done it. In fact, the man would probably give him all the space he wanted. But even as he willed himself off the couch, Kaito just couldn't do it.

"Something the matter?" Gakupo's smooth, soft voice forced Kaito's blush.

"N-no. Just... Ice cream." Kaito gulped audibly and stared down at the carton, even as he heard Gakupo sweep by, scoop up the remote, and toss himself into an armchair.

And then he laughed, a soft chuckle that brought a pleasant shiver to Kaito's spine. "Yeah. I got you another peppermint, I thought you were out."

Kaito nodded and looked up for the first time. Gakupo was watching him carefully, one eyebrow delicately raised. And that – the tight silence between them, the burning of Gakupo's gaze – that brought the memories flooding back...

_'Twenty-four years old, and never seen one of these," Gakupo purred. He flicked the remote, and the ring laying in Kaito's palm first jittered and then vibrated against his hand. Like a small jolt of electricity, those sensations ran through him again, all heat and abandon. Someone moaned softly, and Kaito promised himself that it _wasn't_ him._

_Gakupo stepped closer, close enough to whisper in his ear, "Tell me where you _think_ it goes."_

_And then Kaito couldn't ignore it any longer – the friction of his jeans, the heat he could feel rolling off Gakupo's skin. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and licked his lips. "How... how about you show me?"_

Gakupo's elevated eyebrow dropped as he returned his attention to the remote. The fanfare announcing the evening news flooded the room. "Kaito, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." Kaito cracked a smile then, though it felt unnatural. "Probably too much ice cream." He scrambled off the couch, previous lethargy forgotten.

"Oh, good," Gakupo grinned. "I thought you were upset about me fucking you last night."

Kaito froze and choked on air.


	2. Len

**Warnings:a miniscule amount of sexiness. It's no worse than chapter 1**.

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><p>Evening air blew cool across Len's bare legs through the gap in his coat, but he didn't mind. He liked the way it tingled and burned over the long, pink stripes torn into his skin. It hurt a little, sure, but that was <em>why<em> he enjoyed it.

His entire body surged with electricity, the aftermath of it all leaving him trembling as the last dregs of adrenaline still pumped through his system. A hot, tingling sort of peace accompanied it, the kind that he only found when he could plunge himself down to Hell itself and come back up still whole – better than whole. He smiled now, as he ran a finger over the raised bite mark on his neck.

_"__You're mine, you know that?" The man's fingers played over his bare skin, first gentle and then bruising and harsh. "Right now, you are all mine." _

_And Len nodded, even as he felt that burning kiss along his neck turn painful, even as he felt the man's teeth against him. His hands tightened in the chains even as he ground out the words past the pain:_

"_Y-yours... Sir."_

The streetlight before him turned red and Len hurried across, holding his long coat close so that it didn't reveal too many of the scrapes and bruises he'd earned that night.

The sun was sinking fast, the lights from nearby buildings providing most of the sickly yellow glow. And Len had learned already that he didn't want to walk home with _that_. That just meant extra trouble, and Len already plenty. So, when he set off down the street again, urgency hurried him along, and he broke into a half-jog.

_Don't look nervous, you'll be fine. _

Really, he should have let his play partner drop him off back home when he'd offered. Well, not at home. At least a few blocks away. He'd gotten more than his fill of having no privacy four years ago, thank you.

Len stopped again, this time at a crosswalk. There were a few women off in the shadows, tiny tops and tinier skirts showing hints of their 'wares'. The raw scent of alcohol wafted across the space between him and them. But the women didn't bother him, and Len just kept his eyes fixed on the traffic, waiting until he could run again.

After all, that was the whole reason he'd moved here. Not the prostitutes – rather, the fact that no one cared to even spare him a glance. If anyone still remembered his name (and they probably did; he'd heard his songs played over the radio more than a few times), they wouldn't find him out here. Here, he got to start fresh.

Here, the buildings flattened out to a more uniform height of just a few stories, maximum – so different from the skyscrapers just blocks away. The neighborhood didn't look too terrible; the streets were cracked and scattered with cigarette butts, and most everything within a four-block radius was in need of a paint job, but it could have been worse. The place held an air of faded cheer, like you'd been happy here in a memory that you couldn't quite recall. Maybe that, too, had drawn Len to the place.

The streetlamps flicked on with a low buzz. A car drove by, and Len could have sworn that he heard _Spice! _pouring out the open windows, but maybe that was just his imagination. He _hoped_ it was his imagination.

The memories surfaced next, like a submerged corpse beginning to rot, and Len wrinkled his nose and shivered. But he wasn't fourteen anymore, either. He relaxed, let his fingers walk across his collarbone until they found that bite mark on his neck. He caressed it slowly, until his heartbeat slowed again.

Len allowed himself a smile of triumph.

But that was a good indication that it was time to get home; he moved a little faster, broke into a full jog. He didn't slow until he'd reached the apartment building.

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><p>It was a simple place, little more than a cement square. But that was home, at least for now, and not a bad one for a college kid on a buget. Len slowed to a walk and ascended the exterior steps to the second floor, up to an aluminum door painted in an unconvincing imitation of real wood. After a few moments fiddling with his keys, Len was in.<p>

He slipped inside door and shut the door quietly, mostly out of force of habit. His roommate, Sato (just Sato – no first name, for all Len knew), tended to stay up late watching movies, and could be a little prickly when interrupted. Len didn't exactly like the man, but he didn't dislike him, either. They were both private people, and it worked well enough for them.

His real saving grace was that Sato probably didn't even _own_ a radio. If there was a person in the city less likely to have heard of 'famous' Len Kagamine, Len had yet to hear of it.

Len slipped off his jacket and shoes, placing the latter on a hook and the former by the door. Underneath, he was wearing a simple tee and a pair of nearly-microscopic shorts that didn't do a whole lot for coverage. But hey, he hadn't picked them with the intention of keeping them _on_.

Len tiptoed through the foyer and into the combined kitchen and living room. Sure enough, Sato was snoring quietly in a chair by the TV, the screen showing the menu from a DVD.

The teen eased open the refrigerator door, grabbed a soda (one he hoped was packed with caffeine), and made his way down the hallway. His room was the one at the far end, past Sato's room and a tiny shared bathroom. The first two rooms were quiet, the only other occupant of the house being in the living room at the far end. Once Len opened the room to his door, however, soft music wafted into the hallway.

Len always kept the sound soft, never enough to bother Sato. Most of what he played was just various pop tunes with more auto-tune and back beat than anything else, anyways. He just didn't like the silence, that was all.

He went to the computer and jiggled the mouse to end the screen saver animation. iTunes was running in the background, as always, and he had his word processor open to a paper for one of his classes. First things first, though - Len opened the bottle and took a long swig before setting it on the desk. Then, he opened a new tab on his web browser, and had a look at his email.

Sure enough - two new messages: one from his sister, and one from a Kamui Gakupo. Len opened Rin's email first.

Of course, the message was typed in orange font, a few sizes larger than normal. Pink hearts outlined his name in the header. Len grinned and shook his head, but when he read the letter, he could still hear his twin speaking the words:

_Len! I've missed you. You said you were gonna come by last weekend and you flaked on me. But I'm your sister, so I'll forgive you this once. *hugs!* Oh, you're coming to my concert next week, right? Oh, wait, why am I asking? Of course you are! I'll pick you up at noon on Friday. ;)_

_Write me back, Len! You better not be avoiding me! I want to hear about your classes. And I want to hear that you've eaten more than bananas all week. And I want to hear everything else, too. So write me back, dammit!_

_Hugs and kisses,_

_RIN!_

More grinning and head-shaking from Len. He'd been dying to speak to her, it was true. She was his twin, his other half; he missed her like he would miss a limb he'd left behind. And even though he'd vowed to himself he'd never go to another concert as long as he lived, maybe he'd make an exception, just for her.

His smile softened, and he imagined what it would be like to hear Rin's voice once more, blending with his own on stage._ Together_. Like they should be.

But that would never happen, and Len knew it. So he closed the message, vowed to write Rin back in the morning, and let his cursor hover over the other.

Kamui Gakupo. Len hadn't exchanged more than a few messages with the man, but he was a surprise in more ways than one. Probably the biggest of these was that he apparently used his real name when contacting random people off the internet. After all, Len hadn't even met him face to face, had only seen his profile picture. But here they both were.

He opened the message. Gakupo's contained none of Rin's... bounciness. It was just a few lines of black text on a white background. Len skimmed over the opening: just replies to various questions Len had asked of him: what... 'activities' he was interested in pursuing, some simple background stuff, the usual. The face that he'd managed to flirt a bit _without_ sounding like a creep was rather impressive. Then, the final line:

_You sound like fun. When would you like to meet?_

Len swallowed hard, and began reading the beginning of the letter a whole lot more closely. He was suddenly quite looking forward to meeting this Kamui Gakupo.

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><p>AN: What's this? Len isn't fourteen in this fic? That's one of the reasons I decided to label this AU (what constitutes _not_ AU for Vocaloids, anyways?). Just so you know. ;)

Anyways, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I'd really like it if you'd think about giving some feedback, too.


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